Eye Contact
by lightning027
Summary: Mello's bullying has gone too far, and Near is called upon by a girl to stop him.  Will Near be able to face Mello?  Will Mello stop hurting innocent children? And who exactly IS this girl? OC warning, multiple chapters
1. Eye Contact

Near was doing what he usually did on weekdays, staying in the little playroom next to the main entrance and planning. Some would call it plotting, but Near thought that sounded too "evil", so he planned. Usually he could just think in peace because no one would even think of messing with Mr. L's–Number–One–Successor. But today was different apparently. Near didn't know why, he hadn't gotten a memo or anything.

A girl stormed into his playroom, the gust from the door knocking over his card house, which he had worked on for two hours, thank you very much. She reminded him a bit of Mello, and not just because she was a dirty blonde. No, she stormed into the room, very flustered and angry, with a bruised jaw and scraped knees. She had obviously come from a fight, and was very mad. She looked around Near's age, 10 or 11.

Near looked at her as she mumbled to herself and kicked the walls with her muddy Converse. He deduced that this was probably the work of Mello, and that she had come here to ask him to solve her problems or something. Or, if she was as like Mello as she seemed, beat him up.

"Damn him! He has no right!" she yelled, clenching her fists and turning to Near. He looked at her, twirling his hair. If she was going to put up a fight he wasn't going to just sit there.

"Do you know who did this to me! Mello!"

Near twirled his hair. An obvious fact.

"And do you know why? Because of you!" She stepped closer to him, the scowl on her face prominent.

"The idiot thinks that just because you beat him at everything that gives him the right to hurt us normal people! And if you try to stop him, this happens!" she gestured to herself. "You started this, so I am going to _make_ you finish it!"

"What do you suggest I do?" Near asked. This girl was very much like Mello, she obviously hadn't thought her plan through.

"We're going to walk up to that . . . that man-bitch, and tell him to his face that what he's doing is wrong! You may be his competitor, but you're the only real person he respects, Near."

Near looked at the floor processing the information. He had no clue that Mello respected him. To tell the truth, people like Mello were a mystery to him, unpredictable and frankly a bit scary.

"Fine," Near agreed. If this girl was as much like Mello as she seemed, she wouldn't leave him alone until he complied. Besides, she didn't say he had to succeed . . .

The girl grabbed his hand and pulled Near to his feet. Near, a bit dizzy from getting up too quickly, wobbled and almost fell down. He felt a bit embarrassed for acting weak, but he wouldn't show that emotion.

The girl caught him before he fell.

"Wow . . . I'm screwed," she mumbled, obviously talking about the fact that if Near couldn't stand, he must be incapable of doing anything of importance.

She dragged the white haired boy outside. Near, who never went outside unless forced, squinted at the light and looked at the grass under his socked feet. He let the girl drag him to the basketball courts, where he could hear Mello yelling at another kid. Near noticed he did not know this girl's alias. That was strange, he could usually remember every child at Wammy's fairly easily.

"What is your alias?" Near asked the girl. She stopped and looked at him. Near didn't glace up from the grass.

"Zero. Or Z. Because I get the lowest grades here," she stated, then continued to drag Near along. Now Near knew why he hadn't known her – the elite students had a different dorm section than the others. Most homes would separate by gender, but Wammy's was . . . well, Wammy's.

Zero led him through the door of the courts and onto the pavement, which was a tad damp from rain in the morning. Mello, Matt, and a few other cronies stared at the two extremes of Wammy's House. The two kids they had been maiming took this chance to get up and stare as well.

"What do you want, losers?" Mello asked, rolling his eyes. Near finally looked up, in order to defend himself more than anything else. Mello and his gang formed a half circle around the two. The other kids finally came to their senses and ran off.

"To teach you a lesson, queer! We ain't dealing with your abuse anymore!" Zero yelled, her hands balling into fists. Near knew he should begin to speak before Mello and Zero started to fight. Similar personalities tend to conflict in relationships, Near had learned, as well as opposites. A good medium must be found in order to work together well.

"Mello, treating children of a lesser intelligence level like his is unacceptable," Near started, looking at Mello's chest. He had a fear of looking others in the eyes. When he did, it felt as if they could look into his soul, and Near hated the feeling that others could know his emotions.

Mello stepped closer to the boy.

"Is that a threat, you little albino freak? I can treat these idiots however I want to!" Mello raged, a vein in his temple throbbing.

Near was on the verge of backing down. He had seen kids try to stand up to Mello before, and it had not ended well. Near was just being realistic and concerned for his health. He took a step back, but felt a hand on his shoulder.

Near looked up to see Zero glaring at Mello with a vengeance. Even though she had been beaten up earlier today, Z looked like she was pissed off and ready for round two. She glanced down at Near, and gave him a small smile. One that said "hey, I know this is new to you, but kick this jerk's ass".

More important than the look was the fact that they made eye contact. Now, making eye contact, Near knew, actually increased the amount of testosterone in your body, especially if you have an attachment to the person you make contact with. Near used this to explain why he suddenly felt energized and brave. He would deal with the fact that he had no attraction to Zero later.

"Mello, we all know you just bully these children in order to deal with your own insecurities, caused by the fact that I always come in first in Wammy's rankings, which leads to your obvious inferiority complex. We all know that you only do things like this because you are weak mentally so you try to ignore this by imposing your physical strength on the weak. The fact that these thugs assist you in your practices is not because they believe you are 'cool' or because they respect you, it is because they are afraid that if they do not do as you say, they will also be beaten up, which is extremely stupid because without numbers, even your strength won't be of any help when you go up against children like Zero.

"You act more immature than the smallest child here. You are making yourself weaker than the frailest. And you are dumber than the least intelligent here. So save yourself some dignity and stop hurting kids. Go to a shooting range or something, take a self-defense class. Find something you can beat me at. Just don't hurt another child," Near looked at Mello's left ear, waiting for something. An outburst, a punch to the face, a tantrum.

But it never came.

Near waited for forty seconds. Mello didn't move a muscle. Zero's hand tightened on his shoulder, and Near remembered that she was there. He had been so focused on Mello he had forgotten about her.

Finally, Mello looked up.

"Look at me, Near." He said. Near continued to stare at his left ear. Mello took Near's face and turned it so that his clear blue eyes met Near's lifeless ones. Zero's hand left his shoulder.

"You're right. You're always right. And you always make me feel like a fool. I hate it. I detest the feeling of being inferior. Even though I hate having to say it, admitting I'm wrong . . .

"I'm sorry for hurting those kids. I was stupid. You happy? I won't do it again," Mello whispered so only Near could hear. Mello's eyes held more fluid than usual. Near didn't know what he would do if Mello started crying. He had enough weird things to deal with today, he was outside, he hadn't been outside in months.

"So you and your idiot girlfriend better get off my court or I'll smash your faces," Mello growled, pushing Near back into Zero. Near stumbled into the girl, who righted him and then stepped towards Mello, but Near caught her arm.

"Don't," Near said, then pulled Zero towards the door of the basketball court. She gave Mello one last glare, then followed Near into the building. She tried to ask Near questions about what Mello had whispered to him, but Near ignored her. Not intentionally, he just wasn't paying attention. After a few moments of glaring at Near, Zero stalked off. Near didn't even notice.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It was about a week after Near had confronted Mello. He was in his playroom, piecing together a lego castle when Near heard the door open. He turned to see Zero leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. He noticed she wasn't wearing shoes. Had she been wearing shoes the day they confronted Mello? He couldn't remember.

She kicked a white binder to him. He picked it up and opened it to the first page. The pages were covered in plastic, and had obviously been taped together after having been ripped to shreds.

"Dear Near,

Thanks for bringing me to my senses, I acted like an asshole. Well, you can be an asshole too, but that's probably just cause I hate your guts and will probably mur-"

"Dear Near,

I'm sorry about hurting all those kids, I needed to be stopped. I'm glad you finally told me off, cause I wouldn't have listened to that bitch Zero. What'd you make her do so you'd confront me? C'mon, there had to be some form of payment, I bet –"

"Dear Near,

God writing is hard . . . screw you, you helped me but God I wish you weren't so hard to talk to, oh screw this, this letter isn't coming out any better –"

"Dear Near,

Thanks for bringing me to my senses. I deserved to be told off. I hope you and Zero are happy together. I hope that distracts you so I rise to the top of the rankings. I hope that last sentence didn't make you realize your mistake. Fuck . . .

(the rest of this letter was unintelligible scribbles of fury)"

Near looked up at Zero, who was smiling at him n a crooked, teasing sort of way.

"You really changed Mello, ya know? He hasn't even attempted to hurt a kid since you talked to him. Well, hurt them unless provoked. He won't touch anyone unless they fuck with him," Zero said. She was looking at the wall now.

"There's pictures behind the letters. Of Mello. He bought a gun, you know. Because of you."

Near flipped the pages to pictures of Mello at a shooting range with Matt, Mello shooting and Matt laughing. Another picture showed Mello and Matt just laughing together. Apparently Matt didn't just follow Mello around because he didn't want to get hurt.

"Matt's his best friend. They hang out a lot now. Good job, Near," Zero smiled at him one last time, then walked away. Near wanted to call out to her, to say something, because he knew he wouldn't see her again. But he didn't know what to say. So he let her go.

Near turned the page in the binder, and found another letter. But this one was different than the others.

"Dear Near,

Thank you. You didn't know me, but you helped me anyway. I'm glad you cared, and decided to make a difference. We all have flaws, but doing good is not yours. You avoid people, but you really don't need to. Did you know that by not looking people in the eye, you are actually shortening your lifespan? Did you know that without being held, a baby can actually die, just because of that reason? We all need compassion, Near. You won't find it in me (Mello's an idiot), but you need to find it somewhere. And when you do, you'll truly be happy, and your life will be complete.

Near, this is my last day at Wammy's. I wasn't smart enough, so I was adopted. I won't forget this place, and I won't forget you. If you need me, you know how to find me. I know you won't try to find me, but I just wanted to let you know I'll help you if you need it. I hope you find happiness, Near, and not just by succeeding L. True happiness. I wish you luck.

Zarra Beccard

(Burn after reading)"

**(A/N** – OK, first I would like to say, WTF with all these Near stories? If I don't like him, why do I keep writing for him. Ugh, I don't know . . .

This is a present for Near0218, who just joined fanfiction, and is my awesome real life friend (who does act a helluva lot like Near). So . . . merry Christmas? Happy fanfiction-warming? I dunno . . .

If you guys really like this and have ideas for a follow-up or a mini-series, review for it! Actually, this can be viewed in many different ways, at least pairing-wise. I mean you have ZxNear, Z and Near friends, MelloxNear, Mello and Near friends, god I don't even know which one to chose! So, merry Kiramas, guys! And a very L new year!)


	2. Contemplations of True Happiness

It was a year after the Kira case had been solved. Near had officially become the new L, and was working on cases just like nothing had ever happened, becoming L as if it was as natural as breathing. He slept less, and ate more. Near was eighteen now, and his team, which still consisted of Rester, Gevanni, and Linder, encouraged him to do more "normal things". As Near had worked with them more and more, they had become more and more informal when talking to him. Near had learned this was not a good thing.

"Near, we haven't had a case in a week, yet you still research until the wee hours of the morning and never do anything for yourself," Linder stated, bringing Near his coffee. He put down the dominos he had been building with and took a sip. Near liked his coffee black.

"Researching is what I do. It is not a matter of who I am doing it for, Linder," Near replied. He set his coffee down and typed something in on his computer, which now joined him on the floor with his dominos.

"I know that your job is important to you, but now that all of the big cases are over you should start doing some fun things. Haven't you ever wanted to go to the beach or an amusement park? Or find a girlfriend?" Linder asked, sitting in a chair next to Near. Near mentally rolled his eyes. He always found it annoying when one of the SPK members tried to talk to him about his "social life". When are they going to just take the hint and realize that Near doesn't want a social life, that he is completely fine and happy solving cases?

"Linder, I am happy here," he said simply. Near was annoyed, but refused to show it. "Emotions are Weakness", that was Near's motto. He was contemplating whether or not to have it engraved on his tombstone.

"But don't you think you want to find true happiness, Near? Being L is not true happiness," Linder stated, sipping her own coffee. Near stopped what he was doing and stared into space. True happiness . . . true happiness? Why does that saying seem so familiar . . .?

_I hope you find happiness, Near, and not just by succeeding L. True happiness._

That's it! That's where he had heard it before! But where was it from . . .? Ugh. The brain can be so confusing at times. Neurons fire and block certain information in order for the brain to narrow its search, when in reality it is suppressing the very name the brain is looking for. Near wouldn't be able to think of the name he needed now. Damn brain functions . . .

"How do you propose I find true happiness, Linder?" Near asked. He actually didn't care about her answer, he was trying to defy science and think of the person who had told him about true happiness . . . they were the answer to all of this . . .

"First of all, you have to go out into the world. Experience things, not just stay locked in a room. You're eighteen now, Near, you should be having fun! Here, I have a coupon for coffee at this great little café downtown. Why don't you go out and try it? It's only a few blocks away," Linder added. She smiled a bit and helped Near to his feet.

Near, who had been zoned out and had not heard a word that came out of the SPK member's mouth, was not expecting to stand up so quickly, tried to gain his balance, and almost failed. On one occasion, Near had been pulled to his feet so quickly he had actually passed out. But that was an incident Near tried not to remember. Unlike the name of that person . . .

Linder grabbed Near's arm, fairly used to the boy's, excuse me, _man's_, dizziness when standing up for the first time in over eight hours. She led Near through the halls of the SPK's newest building, and into the room which was reserved for Near, not like he ever used it.

She opened the closet and found Near's shoes, upon which she instructed Near to sit down on his bed. Linder then attempted to slide Near's shoes onto his feet, but failed. She tried a few more times, but was unsuccessful as well.

"Linder, I believe those shoes are too small for me," Near commented. He then picked one up and placed it next to his foot. His feet were, in fact, significantly larger than the shoes. Linder scrunched up her face.

"But we bought those shoes just last year . . ." she shook her head, mumbling something about ordering new shoes later. Near was satisfied, and hoped that because he had no shoes to wear, he would not have to go on this excursion today. Near was just about to get up and return to his research when Linder returned with a pair of black dress shoes. Near groaned inwardly.

"Here, try these, they're Gevanni's," she stated, sliding the shoes onto Near's foot. It was just a little bit wide for the man, but was good enough for Linder.

"There. Now take this coupon, the address is on the back. I want to see a receipt when you get back!" Linder chided as she shoved Near out the door of the headquarters. Near, now in a very bad mood, stumbled as he was shoved out the door.

"Indignant . . ." he mumbled, righting himself before he fell over. He began to walk robotically to the address given to him; he had memorized the streets since they had arrived here. Near thought about the fact that his shoes were . . . what, three sizes too small? And they had been bought around this time last year? Near did think that his oversized clothes were beginning to feel a bit too fitted for his liking . . . but he had thought maybe Rester had screwed up and left them in the dryer for too long again.

And he had started to cuss mildly in his thoughts. When had that happened? Near dismissed this as compensation for Mello's death, just like his sudden affection for chocolate . . . but Near decided he must now face the fact that he was growing up. Both physically and also by behavior. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to go to this café, it might help him see things in a different light.

Near reached his destination, a small café called "The Spot". Near thought the name was a bit of a stupid hipster name, but it also somehow represented the place well. Wait . . . since when did Near know what a hipster was?

Near walked through the door, and the bell made a satisfying little jingle sound. He observed the place, twirling his hair absentmindedly as he glanced at the floor, not expecting to meet anyone's eyes.

But to Near's surprise, he saw no chairs, and actually almost made eye contact with quite a few people. There were no chairs at this café, only beanbag chairs and cushions for the customers. They looked as Near expected them to, very hipster-ish with a few angsty teens and theater geeks mixed in. Surprisingly, Near actually fit into this place.

_Good choice, Linder_, Near thanked her mentally. Near settled into a beanbag near the back of the place, holding a knee to his chest and twirling his hair. He slipped off Gevanni's shoes and slid them under the chair; no one would notice his feet, or care here.

As Near was fooling with the laces on his shoes, he heard feedback from a few instruments and some random notes. He looked up to see a band at the front of the café tuning up. Near quickly lost interest and continued to untie his shoes. Afterwards a waitress walking by noticed him and took his order, black coffee. By then the band was ready to begin playing.

Near hoped they wouldn't play anything too violent or loud. Near preferred softer music, such as classical, jazz, and occasionally soft rock. Besides, hard rock reminded Near too much of Mello, and Near would rather not have to think of his dead competitor.

"Hello, The Spot!" the lead singer smiled at the crowd as they cheered. The band had obviously played here before. "As you all know, we are White Noise and we're here to rock this place! Whoo!" The crowd cheered again. Near felt obligated to clap, so he did.

"Our first song will be 'A Beautiful Lie' by 30 Seconds to Mars. I hope you guys enjoy it!" A few more scattered claps as the song began, and a lone whistle. The pianist started off with a few notes, then the guitar joined in, and then the lead vocalist. Near turned away from the band as the waitress brought him his coffee. He sipped it as he observed their performance.

"Have I seen you here before?" the waitress asked Near, smiling at him politely. She brushed a strand of dirty blonde hair out of her face.

"No, I have not been to this café before," Near answered, trying to be polite. Actually he was enjoying the song. It somehow reminded him of the Kira case, and L.

"So you haven't heard White Noise before? Their lead singer works here," the waitress commented, leaning on the wall, crossing her arms.

"Really?" Near asked, taking a closer look at the lead singer. She was singing with all her might, hair flying everywhere. At times she would glance at the guitarist, who had a bit of a hard time playing a few of the riffs. He could see her motioning to him the correct notes. If she knew, why didn't she play herself?

"Yeah. That's the only reason they get to play here. They're not that good, but the customers love the live music, and they'll play for free," the waitress shrugged. "Personally I think she's a goody two shoes. Employee of the month seven times in a row . . . just makes me wanna slap her upside the head for acting all high and mighty around the rest of us," the waitress huffed. Near cocked his head to the side.

"Well, if she is better than you, she might have a right to act like it," he said. He believed it too. He didn't have to sit around talking to a bottle blonde (he could tell by the roots) idiotic waitress when he could be listening to music that reminded him of what was most important in his life, L, and his struggle to replace him. Near knew exactly how to get people to leave him alone.

The waitress glared at Near and then left in a huff, he extremely short skirt swirling around her and giving Near and the man sitting next to him a nice view of her panda-patterned panties. Near rolled his eyes, this time for real, and continued to listen to the song until it ended. He clapped as others cheered and whistled. A few more people had arrived while Near had been conversing with the waitress, and the café was pretty crowded by now.

"Thank you, thanks," the lead singer said, trying to quiet down the crowd. But now they were stomping their feet. Near could make out a chant now. The lead singer was rolling her eyes and smiling, the drummer twirling her sticks in anticipation.

"Contact!" stomp, stomp. "Contact!" stomp. "Contact!" stomp, stomp. "CONTACT!" the last yell was accompanied by a frenzy of stomping as the lead singer tried to calm the crowd once again.

"Alright, alright! God, you people are pushy! For those of you that don't know, I wrote this song when I was thirteen and I was going through a tough time in my life. I looked back on a time that was bittersweet, and I wrote this. And now it's your favorite!" She smiled, a genuine gesture that Near envied. It wasn't really in his nature to smile, and he certainly couldn't do it on cue. He was jealous of her perfect smile. He just wasn't sure why he thought of it at that moment.

The lead singer took the guitar from the guitarist, who seemed to be glad to get rid of the thing, and sat with his friends in the front row. The lead gestured to the pianist, who started to play a simple little tune. After a few bars, the lead joined in on with vocals. Near could almost see the emotion that was pouring out of the girl. He wondered how she could possibly display all of that for the world to see.

"Yesterday was my best friend,  
>I'm so cold and lonely,<br>Today is here again,  
>Snatching life from me,"<p>

The band joined in, guitar and drums forming a uniform sound with her voice and the piano. Her voice wasn't the most beautiful in the world, but the band and her stage presence made up for it. The band was much better now than when playing the previous song.

"It's so hard to believe . . .  
>for the life of me,<br>I don't understand,  
>how changed I have been . . .<p>

I need contact with the other side,  
>that past life of mine,<br>that bittersweet, losing life,  
>that took up all my time,<p>

With no friends is better than,  
>this ungrateful mime,<br>of a life that could have been,  
>might have been fine . . .<p>

I need contact, sweet contact,  
>with this broken life of mine,"<p>

Near could see a few kids crying at the chorus. Personally he didn't see anything particularly moving about the lyrics. Just the typical crap about having a terrible life. He knew there was probably a hidden meaning in the lyrics, but he didn't really feel like deciphering this girl's "oh so terrible" life. At least there was a good tune.

"And these lies that you spin this day,  
>unraveled by the few,<br>don't defy my prying eyes,  
>I know it's not really you!"<p>

The singer hit a high note and the band started up again, obviously going to a bridge in the song. The lead brought the guitar wailing out in front for a solo, and the band started to really get into the song. They had obviously played it a million times before. Near was a bit disturbed by the last line. He couldn't help but try to figure out the meaning behind that one. He had a bit of a hunch . . . he would be able to confirm it once they began to sing again.

"Contact, sweet contact,  
>this broken life of mine,<br>it's your life, not my life,  
>we're running out of time,<p>

And I see your face in this dying race,  
>as you fight against time,<br>and I wish you'd take my advice,  
>and fight, I know you're trying,<p>

So take my hand,  
>make contact with my life,<br>and save my from this dark abyss,  
>and bring me back to life . ..<p>

Make contact with my life . . ." the lead singer held the last note out, ripping a mini-guitar solo before bowing as the crowd yelled with glee. Near was still contemplating the meaning of the song. He looked up at the singer, who was announcing the band would take a break and continue afterwards. During the break the audience could ask questions.

Near picked up his coffee and headed towards the front of the shop, but off to the side. He wanted to hear what that song was about. On the surface, it had seemed like a normal song about teen angst. But Near had seen, without even trying, the layer underneath the outward angst. And he had a hunch about that layer. Whoever this girl was, the line about knowing lies made him think about L's death. It may just have been because the last song had reminded him of L, but he was interested nonetheless.

**(A/N –** I'm happy so many of you wanted a sequel! I'm sorry this chapter ended a bit awkwardly, I had a hard time finding a decent place to stop writing.

Thank you, C. Holywell-Black, for coming up with the idea of meeting in a café. I kind of got away with the idea though. I hoped that you all though that the waitress was Z before she was promptly dissed by Near. And I apologize for the terribly written song. I'm not a song writer, but it_ was _written when she was thirteen.

Although this story kind of got away from me, I couldn't imagine it any other way. I appreciate criticism an anything. The next chapter will be coming, I'm not too sure how long the series will be, though. Thank you, reviewers! I hope you liked it!)


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